


Bound to You

by Keeperofate



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Blood Drinking, Gemshipping, M/M, Mystery, Suspense, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-09-19 02:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keeperofate/pseuds/Keeperofate
Summary: There's something wrong with Ryou Inoue's class assigned essay partner, something off. So when another student in a string of kidnappings goes missing, he can't help but suspect the worst.





	1. Migrane

The winter cold hit the city of Domino in icy waves, blowing in south from the mountains and bringing a light snowfall with it . 

For most, this meant a Friday night in with family or friends. Huddled around a hot pot or a crowded table at a local bar, karaoke rooms booked out and homework forgotten. 

If Ryou Inoue had any of those things waiting for him, he’d be out as well. But he didn’t.  Just  a lonely apartment and a broken heater.  So, instead he was in the library, textbooks laid out before him in an organised mess, going between highlighted pages and the document open on his laptop . 

Scanning his notes, he pulled one of the many books closer, the front printed with a stylized depiction of Egyptian hieroglyphs . 

Opening it to a post-it note tabbed page, he trailed his fingers over the glossy text, already highlighted from the previous night’s study .

_ It's no secret that tomb robbing was a popular occupation in Ancient Egypt.  Gold gilded coffins, amulets of precious stones, exotic imported artifacts all proved too tempting for thieves, many of who came from the lower classes of Egyptian society  . _

_ In some cases, tomb robbers would  be aided by  corrupt officials, from the necropolis employees charged with protecting the tombs, too the priests and scribes that performed the burial process  . _

_ Efforts to combat this were many, from protective charms to curses upon any that dared desecrate the tombs-  _

“Hey.” 

Ryou looked up, startled, his focus broken by a tired voice. Beside him, having appeared out of thin air, was a man. 

His neck tingled as he took him in, from dark jeans to an oversized red hoodie, a backpack slung over one broad shoulder  . His hair was ashen - sticking out at all ends around a square jaw, pale eyes like pearls against dark skin.  He was intimidating, an assessment not helped by the jagged, pale edges of healed skin that tore down his left cheek . A scar.

“Ryou Inoue, right?” His voice was softer than his appearance. 

“I - yes -” Ryou started, “Can I help you?”  He moved his laptop to the side, attempting to play off his movement as a polite gesture, an invitation to sit, rather than suspicion .

“I’m your partner.” 

“Partner...?”

“For the Ancient Life course? Anthropology? I’m Bakura.” 

_ Bakura. _

It had been four weeks, and Ryou had never seen him in class. He’d assumed he was a no show. 

Ryou tried to pretend his confusion hadn’t happened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had gotten my message.” The one he had sent three weeks ago, and to which Bakura had never replied. “I’ve already started, so -” 

“Egypt, huh?” Bakura’s gaze swept over the books. “What did you pick? Pharaohs?” A sneer.

“I - no," Ryou watched as Bakura tossed his bag on the ground and took the seat opposite him.  "I decided to look at the life of a tomb robber, you know, thought it'd be more interesting-" he cut short, Bakura was still staring, his gaze curious now  . Before Ryou could protest, he was pulling the laptop towards him. "Look,  honestly  I was planning on finishing up soon," a lie, "I can send you the file if you want to read it over." 

"It won't take long to read." Bakura cut him off. "Anyway, need to catch up, don't I?" He smiled at him, his lips stretched thin.

“I suppose…” Ryou couldn't argue. He played with the ends of his sweater as Bakura’s eyes flickered across the page. 

“It’s not finished,  obviously  , I  just  wanted to get the layout right,” Ryou said, disliking the silence. 

“Hmm.”  Bakura was still reading, gaze critical, brows pulling in as he reached the bottom of the page and scrolled to the next . Ryou couldn’t help but notice how hollow his cheeks looked, or the rings around his eyes. Was he ill? 

“Are you enjoying the course?” He spoke before he could stop himself. 

“A friend recommended it to me.” 

“Oh! Are they at the university, too?” 

A pause. “No.” 

He took that as his warning to stop talking, and returned to watching Bakura, his eyes wandering down his frame and to his backpack . It was dark and worn, with some sort of patch stitched to the side. Golden and frayed, similar to the eye of Horus, though the design was all wrong. 

_ “What bullshit .” _

Ryou's head snapped up, and he found Bakura frowning at his screen. His words had  been muttered , breathy, but Ryou was close enough to hear. 

“Excuse me?” 

Bakura looked up, his frown stretching the scar on his cheek downwards. “What?” 

“What’s bullshit?” 

Bakura met his eye. “Nothing is,” he said, a controlled expression on his face. 

A ringing started in Ryou’s ears. “I - no,” He shook his head, pressure pressing at his temples as he spoke. Damned if he was going to let him lie to his face. “If you have a problem with it, you can write your own essay.” 

“Excuse me? ” It was clear Bakura hadn’t expected such a response from Ryou, and was staring at him now, dumbfounded. 

“Boys!” They both jumped, the librarian’s head sticking around a shelf. “This is a library, not parliament. Please keep it down.”

"I -" Ryou started. His head was aching. “I’m sorry.” he bowed in apology. “We were  just  finishing.” She hummed, casting her gaze over them both before disappearing back down the aisle. 

He didn't look at Bakura as he reached over, snatching his laptop back and stuffing it into his bag. 

"Oi, what are you doing?” 

Ryou ignored him, collecting his books.

“Hey-” 

Ryou dodged Bakura’s hand, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m going to contact the professor, you can write your own essay.” 

Ryou could hear Bakura call out as he strode off, already halfway to the stairs.  He stepped up two at a time, hurrying to the library entrance and nodding goodnight to a concerned looking security guard .

The dark clouds above threatened the city with snow, but his body was too flushed to notice the bite in the air.  Every step made his head thump with pain, and he stumbled  between two buildings, resting against the wall and catching his breath . 

It felt as though an age passed, but soon the pain simmered, pulling back to a dull ache that left him feeling nauseous . It had been a while since he’d had an attack, and so without warning. Sweat trickled down his arms as he forced himself to straighten. 

He was between two of the older university buildings, the nearby streetlight casting an orange glow down the path . Snow had started to fall while he waited. He turned his gaze upwards to the brick walls, immediately regretting it. Staring down at him were posters - worn by the rain and wind, the new peeling back to reveal the old. Faces of missing students. 

_ You shouldn’t be out here alone. _

A hand grabbed his shoulder. 

He had no chance to think as he swung around, laptop bag in hand. Red and white blurred, his ears ringing. Someone swore with a sharp yell. 

It was Bakura. 

“Why-” Ryou panted, heart thumping with adrenaline.

Bakura was cursing, clutching his nose with one hand and holding something in the other. 

Ryou took several steps back. 

He had followed him? Why? He watched as he straightened up, trying to decide if he should run or not when Bakura finally spoke. 

“You idiot, why did you hit me?!”

“I-” _ Why wouldn’t I hit you?! _ "Look, you know how it's been around here since -" He didn’t finish. Did he need to? The posters were all over campus.

Bakura  just  groaned, and Ryou could see blood dripping between his fingers. “Here,” he searched his pockets, taking out a tissue and handing it out at length. Bakura snatched it from his hand and began to stuff them up his nostrils. 

And then he was stepping towards him, his pale eyes catching the light of the street lamp. “You left your wallet in the library.” He shoved it towards him, and Ryou fumbled as he took it, temples pounding. Something was off - 

Bakura didn’t wait for any thanks, turning away with his hands shoved in his pockets, bloody tissues sticking out of his nose . "Be careful out here, Inoue." 

Ryou watched as he dissolved into the dark, his feet rooted on the spot. A nearby car honked  loudly  in the distance, and pain shot through his head yet again, spurring him to move.

The walk home was as fast as it could be. He was hyper alert to every sound, every snap of a twig and rustle in the trees.  His head was splitting open when he finally reached his door, and he slammed it shut, bolting it and stumbling through the dark to the bathroom . 

His cheap ramen lunch was even worse coming up, and he leant over the toilet bowl, head and heart thumping together as he tried to understand what had  just  happened  . His first migraine in years, and he’d  nearly  broken someone's nose. 

His father would  probably  say it was his own fault. 

He dragged himself to bed and proceeded to sleep through Saturday, only waking to take painkillers and force water down his throat . 

When Sunday came, Ryou sat  weakly  up in bed, laptop propped up on his knees as he tried and failed several times to write an email to his tutor, to get Bakura out of his life as soon as possible . 

Giving up,  he opted to open the essay, reading through his  hastily  written notes and trying to figure out exactly what had upset the other so much - what was so _ bullshit _ .

When nothing obvious stood out, Ryou’s mind began to make up answers. What if Bakura were Egyptian?  Maybe  he’d  inadvertently  written something offensive to top off everything else.  Maybe  that’s why he was so hostile.

Why he'd stolen his wallet. 

W hy he'd followed him. 

If there was one thing Ryou had learnt during his childhood in Europe, it was to keep your wallet secured . His was always in his bag, hidden behind a buttoned pocket, rarely taken out. 

There was no way he would have left it in the library. Unless Bakura had stolen it. 

So why would he steal it, only to return it? Unless it was his plan to follow him all along. To get him alone -

The thought made his stomach turn, and he groaned, flopping back down against the pillow. 

Since that night, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling of dread that had come over him - the warning Bakura had left him. The way his eyes had flashed under the light of the street lamp.

Had he imagined that? 

“You’re  just  on edge, like everyone else.” Ryou muttered to himself, reprimanding his thoughts as if it would quell the anxiety in his chest. “That’s all.” 

* * *

By the time his alarm sounded for Monday classes, Ryou’s migraine had finally subsided. He took his usual detour to get coffee and cake, the cafe busy and much too loud for how early it was. Ryou caught himself gazing at the television on the wall as he waited.  The dull voice of the news reporter made his tired brain foggy, but he was  quickly  alerted by the sound of a breaking news report .

“...and this makes the third student in two months; the latest victim being a 16 year old from Domino High, who went missing last Friday night . The police report no leads thus far - you can call...”

All around the cafe, the chorus of chattering students lowered to a nervous hum. 

Ryou’s throat dried as they showed the victim’s photo on the screen, a familiar uniform. He could remember the first attack with sickening clarity.  It had been a year ago, a girl had gone missing after leaving home to meet with friends, only for her to show up several days later - catatonic  . Unresponsive. She was still in hospital, as far as he knew, and  was considered  one of the lucky ones - others disappeared  entirely . All them students.

Some thought it was Yakuza, others thought it was an online cult. The police didn’t seem to have any theories - and the body count was growing higher every month. 

Eventually  , the cafe manager came out to change the channel; Murders and kidnappings didn’t make for a relaxing Monday morning breakfast, though everyone  quickly  switched to read the report their phones . 

Ryou carried his lukewarm coffee to class, late  . When he finally made it to the lecture hall, most of the seats  were taken  . In fact, all the seats  were taken . But one.

For the first time in five weeks, Bakura had made it to class. He had his hoodie on, up despite being indoors. Ryou forced himself to climb the stairs to the back row and take his spot beside him. 

Bakura said nothing to him, and Ryou made himself busy as he set up his laptop and flipped open his textbook, hurrying to catch up with the tutor’s presentation . He couldn’t help but glance at Bakura’s screen, wondering if he’d at least been following the lecture, and froze. 

** _ Another Student Taken: Domino in Terror _ **

Bakura was reading the article  intensely , his eyes moving fast across the page. The bags under his eyes seemed even darker now, his skin greyish and oily, lips dry. Ryou stared. 

He was sure - positive - he had hit Bakura hard enough to leave a bruise, but his nose was free of any marks. No sign of  being bludgeoned  with a laptop. 

Pouting a bit, Ryou glanced back at Bakura’s laptop screen. He was on another article now, with pictures of the poor missing teen plastered across the page. Ryou tore his eyes away.

He had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions, but It helped none that the classmate that had followed him into a dark alleyway was now  obsessively  following the coverage of a missing student  . It additionally helped none that he felt _ wrong_. That his presence seemed to conjure up an uneasy feeling in the pit of Ryou’s chest. 

Uncomfortable, his stomach squirmed as he did all he could to focus on the teacher, failing more than once as curiosity turned his gaze back to his neighbour . Two pale eyes met his. 

“Need something?”

Ryou wanted to run, but instead he forced his eyes away from Bakura’s face, smiling  banely  . “  Just  … noticed the articles,” he replied in a hushed voice.  The lecture was  nearly  over, and the students around them where already  preemptively  packing their bags . “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” 

“Hmph.” 

Ryou swallowed, daring to glance at him again. “You -”

“Weren’t you going to ditch me? Now would be the best time to talk to the teacher’.” Bakura said, meeting his eyes.

“I-” Ryou paused, glancing away and messaging his temple, a threatening pressure starting in his head  . “I’m happy to work with you if you want to. Otherwise I'll  just  finish it by myself. That was my plan, regardless.” 

Beside him, Bakura closed his laptop with a click. “You’re  just  gonna let me ride out with your mark? Are you stupid?” Ryou’s head snapped up to look at him.

“No. I'm responsible.” 

He watched as surprise flickered in Bakura’s eyes, and followed his movements as he stood, slow, considering, collecting his backpack . There was a pause -

“Fine. Friday, then. I’ll be at the library.” 

“F-fine,” Ryou replied. 

To his surprise, Bakura grinned, an unnerving expression, his face half shadowed by his hood . Ryou could feel his skin prickle with warning. “See you then, Inoue.” 

He watched him go, stalking out of the lecture theatre with the rest of the students, his hands in his pockets and backpack slung over one shoulder . 

It wasn’t until he was out of sight that Ryou let out the breath he’d be holding, flopping back against his seat and holding a hand to his chest . His heart felt like it might break past his ribs. 

There was definitely something off about Bakura. 

* * *

Ryou, as always, was early. He had a favourite spot in the library, a table hidden behind some shelves that was out of the way of other students. No battling for table space, no unnecessary noise. He set up his laptop and spread out his books, taking time to place them in order of subject and relevance. Once he  was done , he checked the time. 

It was still too early to expect Bakura, if he showed at all. 

Seeing no point in starting without him, he rest his head in his arms. It had been a long week, but not because of university. He hadn’t been sleeping. His head had been aching on and off, and his dreams had been strange.  Memories of Bakura’s bright eyes peering at him from the dark, of hands grabbing him and dragging him into the unknown . He was sure his father would say he was overthinking things. Always over thinking, overreacting, daydreaming. But Ryou knew there was something off about Bakura. His scars and odd behaviour, his clear obsession with the missing students. 

And so, because Ryou  was interested  in Bakura, he’d started looking into the disappearances, too .

At first it had  just  been the basic news articles, the things he’d seen on TV and on Bakura’s laptop screen the day of the last disappearance  .  Information Ryou already knew off hand; 21 missing now, all from different areas, all young and hopeful according to friends and family . 

Because of course they were, they always were. 

As Ryou had suspected, whatever made the police think the cases  were tied  was being withheld from the media  . It made sense - they didn’t want copy cats. But that didn’t stop people from talking.  Forums dedicated to missing persons had started cropping up in his searches, conspiracy websites and youtube videos giving hits again and again . 

Think about it, you’ve got missing kids, wide area, they could  easily  tell us if they  were related by  family or work or ties. No. This is something gruesome. A calling sign, something cult. We’ve seen this in the past, the investigators are trying to keep it on the down low. Whoever is getting them is leaving a mark that’s scaring them enough to keep it out of the public. 

Back from work, one of our reporters made it to the scene early, said the amount of cops hanging around was way too large for a simple missing persons . 

They’re not letting us talk to the parents. 

Ryou woke in the dark.

At first he was too disoriented to move, his head aching as he lifted it from his arms, heavy and stiff. It was cold, and he shivered as he looked about  blindly  , trying to make out his surroundings. The digital clock on the wall blurred as his eyes attempted to focus, heart beating  loudly  in his ears. 

Right. The library. 

It was well past closing, somehow security had missed him tucked behind the shelves, and now he was alone, in the dark  .  It was the lower floor, where there were no windows to let in the light from outside - only the dull glow of the LED clock and ominous pinpricks of red from the emergency sensors . 

Ryou had never  been scared  of the dark, never superstitious. He was a frequent watcher of horror movies. He loved a good scary story. But this was different.  Finding yourself alone and isolated was a frightening reality, even more so when you’d been researching missing persons cases . 

It took all his willpower to force himself to move, to collect his things, wincing at every noise he made. The snap as his laptop closed, the thump of the books in his bag. 

His neck was prickling with anxiety as he used the light from his phone to navigate past the shelves, his breath sounding  unbearably  loud  . His legs lead him forward, to the stairwell.  He could see the light from the upper floor, and dashed up so fast he got vertigo, the main floor welcoming him as he made it to the top, breathless . 

He spotted the security guard soon enough, the aging man was leaning against the wall near the doors, reading what looked like a romance novel in the light from outside . 

The man jumped when he approached, pulling out his baton in shock. Ryou waved  nervously .

“I fell asleep back there. I’d love if you could let me out.”

“Jesus christ kid, you  nearly  killed me! Could be a ghost with hair like that.” The man exclaimed, checking over his student card with a doubtful look. “It’s past ten now, be careful out there. You know how it is.”

You don’t need to remind me, Ryou thought  dryly , nodding all the same. He was about to leave, when a thought struck him. 

_Hair like that._

“Um, odd question, but... have you seen a man with white hair? I- I mean-” the guard was raising his eyebrows  pointedly  and Ryou’s own head. “He has darker skin? I  was supposed  to meet him here.” 

The man paused, giving him a weary look, his lips pursing with distaste. “I did, now that you mention it. Saw him meet a guy out there a couple hours ago. You know, another one of those types.” 

“Those types?” Ryou frowned. The guard snorted. “Biker jacket.  Probably  a gang. Why would you want to find someone like that?”

Ryou felt like arguing that a biker jacket had no bearing on the likelihood of someone being in a gang, but bit his tongue in favour of learning more . “I - well, i’m family.” The guard looked less convinced by the minute. “I’m worried about him. Did you see which way they went?” 

The old man decided Ryou wasn't worth the trouble, and pointed towards the south of the university, where Ryou knew there were a strip of coffee shops, hipster burger joints, and a popular night club . 

He bowed low, thanking the guard and hurrying outside, immediately starting down the tree lined path, the branches lit with fairy lights . 

Only the nightclub would be open, not that it mattered. He was sure that was where he would find them - Bakura and the man he’d stood him up for.  He could hear his father’s voice telling him how foolish he was as he rounded the corner and onto the footpath in front of the club .

The walkway was busy, a line of students and other youth waiting at the entrance. Ryou hovered back and glanced over the crowd. Of course, there was no sign of white hair or a red hoodie, or of whoever Bakura had been meeting. 

He wondered if he could wait there until they closed. Wait until Bakura came out, if he were in there at all. He wondered what he would say when he saw him. ‘Hey! Fancy seeing you here!’ Only that sounded fake even as he imagined it. ‘ You see, I'm stalking you because  I think  you’re involved with the missing students.’ 

Now, that was truthful.

He wandered past pairs of well dressed girls, businessmen and guys he was sure where already drunk, receiving questioning looks from those that noticed him  .  The collared shirt poking out from the top of his sweater was not what one wore to a club, and he ducked down to the end of the line as  quickly  as he could .

There, he leant against the wall, a laneyway for deliveries and employee entry close by. 

“DON’T!” A screech, Ryou looked up with a start as laughter followed, a group of girls pouring over another's phone. “God, people will think we’re getting kidnapped!” Giggling. Ryou’s neck prickled. 

_Bakura? _

He looked around, away from the crowd and towards the laneway entrance. Before he could think, his feet were pulling him forward, around the corner and into the neon-lit alley.  It stunk like rubbish, the dumpster overflowing, bags of half opened trash bags piled up against the wall . 

The red hoodie stuck out like a sore thumb. 

Panic rose in Ryou’s chest, a cry threatening to escape, and he rushed forward,  nearly  tripping on the wet pavement as he did .

Bakura  was slumped  against the wall amongst the trash, his hoodie torn by three long, parallel slash marks  .  Ryou tugged at him  frantically  , fear forgotten as he tried to shake him, unable to ignore the dark stains around the tears .

“Bakura, please -” The other groaned, and Ryou squeaked, hands patting down his front. Was he hurt? Was he still bleeding? 

“Malik-?” He looked dazed, his pale eyes unfocused.

“Ryou! It’s Ryou. Don’t move,  I think  you’re… hurt…” He stopped, staring as he pulled up Bakura’s top. His skin  was stained  with blood, as was his shirt. Which made no sense, because there were no wounds. 

“...Ryou?” Bakura was trying to sit up, and Ryou didn’t know what to do. He could feel the hair on his arms prickle with warning. 

“Y-you didn’t come to the library, and I fell asleep, and..” Ryou realised how panicked his voice sounded the more he talked. “I  was worried ! I-” 

“ Ryou?” Bakura seemed to have come to his senses, because he was looking at him now with a panic that matched Ryou’s own. “ You - you can’t be here, you have to get away from me -” 

“No! No way -.” His neck tingled, and he wondered if it was going to snow again. It was getting way too cold. 

Bakura grabbed his arm.  “We have to get out of here - I,” he seemed to be battling with himself, because he held onto his words for a long pause, before forcing himself to his feet and pulling Ryou up with him . “Your apartment is close, right? We’ll be safe there.”

Ryou was too confused to form an argument, his stomach was turning in knots. Something bad was coming, something - “Ok.” He nodded. “This way,” he pointed down the alley, grabbing Bakura’s arm and tugging him along. 

“Oi, slow down - hey!” Bakura was following, though with a stagger in his step, his voice strained. 

Ryou didn’t even know what they were running from, but he knew that whatever or whoever had hurt Bakura was going to come back  .  He pulled him around the corner of the alley and down to the side street that circled the university, leaving the sound of the club behind . 

“Shit, shit, why did you look for me?” Bakura was swearing with every step, glancing around them like a scared animal. 

“I told you,” Ryou hissed, growing frustrated with all the noise he was making. Couldn’t he feel it? “You didn’t show up and - and -” “So you followed me like some idiot that can’t  just  mind his own business.” 

Ryou could have screamed, but bit his tongue, wishing on every star above them that they go faster, get out of the dark and the cold - “How can you say that after you followed me home last week ?” 

“I-” a pause, “- isn’t that your apartment?”

Ryou stopped, double taking as Bakura pulled him back. It was. It was his apartment. They were on his street. He glanced back the way they came, trying to figure out how they’d gotten there so  quickly . 

“What are you doing, standing there? Come on!” Bakura began to tug him along, still limping. He swore when he saw the stairs. “That’s it? There’s no elevator? Fuck. What floor are you on?” 

“...the top floor,” Ryou replied  meekly . 

Bakura looked up, inspecting the height of the five story apartment complex, and then the stairs again  .  His expression didn't change from the tired, annoyed look he seemed to carry everywhere, but his eyes did . His gaze hardened as he looked back at Ryou. 

"Fuck it." 

At one moment Ryou was standing on the wet concrete path, and the next he was choking, his shirt held with an inhuman grip as the ground disappeared beneath him and the freezing night air whipped at his skin  .  His stomach felt like it had  been left  behind, the ascent so fast that he had no time to prepare or even think as the railing of the apartment building rushed towards him, and he  was lifted  over it mid-flight like one would toss a ragdoll . 

The landing was all concrete, Ryou's hands meeting the ground and burning as he stopped himself from falling on his face  . The breath had been  thoroughly  kicked out of him, and he choked and heaved  desperately  in an attempt to get it back. 

Beside him, Bakura coughed. It sounded wet, the kind of cough you'd go to the doctor with after several years of smoking.  Ryou forced himself up and onto his knees, finding the other leaning  shakily  against the nearby wall . 

"What -" 

"Get your keys." Bakura rasped, and Ryou finally noticed his door beside them. " Now."

Ryou nodded  frantically  , swallowing the rest of his question and hurling himself to his feet  . His legs shook beneath him as he fumbled to take out his key chain, Bakura breathing  practically  in his ear. 

But it wasn't him that was setting off the instinctual sense of dread that was rising in his gut, it wasn't him that  suddenly  slammed against the railing behind them, metal screeching and bending under its weight . 

"Fuck, fuck -" Ryou was swearing now, Bakura was gripping him hard, and the door  was unlocked  .  He rushed in, grabbing Bakura by the front of his hoodie and pulling him forward, whining  desperately  when he wouldn't come, wouldn't pass the threshold  . Behind him, something  freakishly  tall and dark began to advance. 

"Ryou," Bakura was clutching his arm, and his eyes looked like full moons reflected in black pools. Ryou was drowning in them. "Invite me in."

He did, and they fell forward, and the door slammed shut behind them with a deafening bang. 


	2. Isolation

Silence. The suffocating kind. It gave Ryou no room to think or breath, doing all he could to keep still, ears straining for any sound beyond his door, any movement. 

He wondered if his neighbours had heard that screech of metal, if they would look outside for the culprit and see  _ that.  _ Terror made real. All spines and arachnid long limbs, deep set red eyes that peered from the dark. 

He hoped they didn't. 

Beside him, Bakura shifted. Ryou didn’t even care that he’d had fallen half on top of him, finding some comfort in that, if the door were to fly open, there would be a buffer between him and certain death. Between him and  _ it.  _

He held his breath as Bakura sat up slightly, listening. 

The scratching was almost inaudible when it started, the hint of a sound, a whisper, but it quickly grew louder. Desperate. Like an animal begging to be let in. Claws against wood, raking at the frame and the body of the door, searching for a weak spot. 

“It can’t get in.”    
  
The fragile tension within the apartment broke, and the weight of Bakura left Ryou as he stood, seemingly calm, his movements slow in the dim light. 

Despite his assurance, It took Ryou a moment to regain the ability to move, fear still clawing up his spine, paralyzing, until he forced himself to his feet through sheer willpower. 

As if sensing their movement, the activity outside ceased, replaced again with an eerie silence that did nothing to help his frantic heart. He needed light. 

He stumbled over to the wall, searching blindly for the switch with his aching hands, skin torn and raw from the landing. He blinked as the darkness was replaced with the glow of light, the familiar and comforting view of his apartment brought into being, sparsely decorated but still home. He watched as Bakura slid his dead bolt into place. 

“You’re sure it can't-?"

“It can’t anymore than I could.”

_ Right.  _

“You -”

Bakura turned towards him, and his words left him. He looked terrible - worse than he had the week before, the light highlighting that fact in horrific detail. His skin was more grey than almond now, his eyes sunken. He wouldn’t even know he was the same person if not for that jagged scar and bright red hoodie, now torn and stained. 

“Are you ok?” 

Bakura blinked, slowly considering him and then himself, glancing down at his hands. His fingertips had turned a dark purple colour. 

“Probably not.” Bakura replied, voice raspy and words lisped. He leant over, lifting up the hem of his jeans, a hiss escaping him. Ryou’s throat burned with bile. 

His ankle was torn open, right down to the bone, white showing through the missing chunk of muscle. Dark, congealed blood dripped slowly onto Ryou’s carpet. 

“How are you even standing?” He asked, his voice a high pitched parody of what it should be. 

Bakura straightened up, leaning against the wall to steady himself, a strained look on his face. “You really don’t know?” 

“Should I?” Ryou replied, dizzy. It felt like the world was finally coming back, rushing towards him with terrifying clarity. Bakura had just jumped five stories _ ,  _ and now he was bleeding all over his carpet looking like one step removed from a corpse.

Ryou began to sway on the spot. 

Bakura caught him before he hit the floor, hand on his chest. “Fuck - I was sure -” Bakura was muttered to himself as he hauled him up, carrying him the few steps across the room and plopping him down on the couch. Ryou could feel himself shaking. 

“What  _ was  _ that?  _ Bakura?"  _ Adrenaline was wearing off, and Ryou's voice shook with his body. "What are you?" 

There was a pause, where they stared at each other, Ryou wondering if he was about to die after all. Bakura started laughing.

“Gods, you really don’t know _anything_.” His face contorted as he spoke, skin stretched over bone like a leather mask.

Ryou shook his head, dumbfounded.

“The answer isn’t easy to explain.” Bakura muttered, face contorting painfully as he did. Ryou could see that his hand was shaking. 

Had that thing attacked him? Had he fought it? 

“You’re not human, are you?” He felt stupid, foolish, even as he asked it. It wasn’t possible, and yet nothing else made sense. Bakura shifted on the spot. 

“You’re an idiot.” He turned away, limping over to the window and glancing outside. “Are there any other doors?” 

Ryou sucked in a breath. “No. All my windows are locked. I have no heating, so it would be too cold to keep any open.” He paused again, eyes on the droplets of blood making a trail across his living room floor. “Is there some way I can help?” 

“Are you serious?” Bakura asked, a frustrated noise. He began to check the windows despite Ryou’s assurance, limping his way around the room like a wounded animal. 

“I realise we’ve stared off - off poorly. But if you bleed on the carpet my landlord will ask questions -” 

Bakura growled, a sound more animal like than human. Frustrated. "Fine." 

Ryou blinked, and Bakura was right there. He wasn’t given a chance to speak again, suddenly pushed back against the couch by a heavy hand on his chest. 

Pain shot through his neck like ice, cold and stinging, and he squeaked, a noise like a frightened mouse. Fitting, then, that Bakura would be the cat. He could feel his lips against his skin, feel the blood being pulled from him, the pressure of it. Of Bakura's mouth over the wounds, sucking. 

Before he could even think to yell or push back something wet and warm slid slowly over the spot that stung, and the pressure was gone. Bakura released him as quickly as he’d taken him. 

Ryou's scrambled to feel at his neck, expecting gushing blood or open wounds - only to find his skin clean and unbroken, the pain gone. 

“Does that answer your question?” 

Ryou looked up, breathless and perhaps trembling more than he had been, his heart thumping frantically in his ears. Bakura was looking at him, smug, pale eyes and scarred face and ashen hair all seeming foreign. He looked younger - more  _ human -  _ like the person Ryou had met two weeks ago had been given a good night's sleep and then photoshopped onto the front of a fashion magazine. 

He was truly handsome. Ryou choked on whatever it was he'd been meaning to say. 

“Hmph,” Bakura shook his head, expression amused as he bent over and checked his ankle again. The wound had begun to close over, muscle knitting together where before there had been none. “Still not quite there.” He noted, straightening up and rolling his shoulders back. 

Ryou finally found his voice. “Does that mean you’ll need more?” He already felt lightheaded, he doubted he’d stay conscious if bitten again. 

Bakura raised his gaze to his, brows high. “Not right now.” He didn’t offer any more of an explanation, instead glancing at the digital clock atop Ryou’s shelf. “You should sleep.” It was clear from his tone that it wasn’t simply a suggestion. Ryou wanted to argue, indignant and wanting answers to the myriad of questions that sat on his tongue, but fought it. 

He wasn’t sure he could stay conscious much longer. And Bakura, despite seeming marginally better than he did before, carried a look of exhaustion. 

“What will you do?” He wondered, standing, already knowing Bakura wouldn’t be leaving - not with danger lurking so close. He watched as he drew the blinds. 

“Wait for dawn.” 

* * *

Ryou’s sleep was dreamless. He woke, confused and curled up in his bed, taking some time to recall the night before. It came back to him in waves, like an old cassette in reverse, jumping between frames, soundless.

Bakura - the monster - the library. 

He sat up slowly and pulled himself from his covers, wandering over to the mirror on his wall. He turned his head, squinting at the skin on his neck, running his fingers hurriedly over the spot he’d been bitten. 

There was nothing, no marks. He drew his hand back, skin red from rubbing. 

He moved to his door in a daze, wandering into the corridor and down the hall to the main room. His blinds where drawn, a blanket had been pushed up into the crack under the door. On the couch was a suspicious lump. 

Real. It was all real. 

He tore his eyes away and to the small kitchenette instead, the back of his neck prickling as he turned away from the sleeping Bakura. He pulled down a packet of stale cereal, filling a bowl and splashing milk over the top. 

He ate it there at the kitchen counter, mind buzzing with disorganized thoughts that jumped from one thing to the next. 

_ Bakura is a vampire. Bakura is a -  _

He finished his meal and set the dishes carefully in the sink. His neck still prickled, as if he needed the warning.

He approached him slowly, stopping at the end of the couch and staring at the lump there, hidden below a blanket. When it didn’t move, he allowed his gaze to wander, eyes falling on the discarded red hoodie on the floor. 

Without thinking, he moved and picked it up, turning it over in his hands and inspecting the tear marks. Claw marks. An attack, a chest slashed open, a flurry of violence. The intent to kill. 

Dizzy, he made the decision without much thought, carrying it to the bathroom. He filled the sink with hot water and washing detergent and began to scrub. The water turned brown under his hands, but the stain persisted, even has his arms began to ache. He drained the sink and tried again, this time with a stronger soap. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than it had been. He rang out the damp fabric and used his hairdryer to fasten the process, shaking it out. 

The tears, though now less bloody, stared back at him, making his stomach squirm, as if it had raked across his chest and not Bakura’s. He carried it to his bedroom and shut the door. 

His craft drawer was a mess, and he pulled out boxes of clay and paints, uncovering squares of old leather from a previous project. His sewing machine whirred beneath his fingers, and he covered the torn sections as best he could, the leather cut into jagged strips, trying at the very least to make it seem intentionally designed. 

Looking at it now, one would think it was a fashion statement. He was quietly pleased with his own work, and folded it over and into a neat bundle, carrying it back into the living room. 

Time had passed faster than he’d thought, and it was already late in the afternoon, his stomach growling. He put the mended hoodie at the end of the couch and went back to the kitchen, sighing at his lack of options and opening a packet of instant ramen. 

He ate quietly, watching the couch and waiting. He waited until the sun dipped down beyond the horizon line and the city lights hid the stars with their glow. 

Finally, Bakura stirred. 

Ryou sat on the floor, the coffee table serving as a barrier between him and the couch. The blanket pulled back slowly, a groan announcing it. Bakura’s arms stretched out over his head, his mess of ashen hair lifting from the cushions. 

They made eye contact. Ryou stared, quietly nervous, and Bakura stared back. It went on for some moments until Bakura sat up completely, and Ryou realised he wasn’t wearing a shirt, his eyes draw to the muscle of his chest.

“I - you - where is your top?” He hadn’t seen it on the floor. 

“In the trash.” Bakura answered, throwing the blanket off and staring at the hoodie on the end of the couch. He reached for it, sniffing it and then letting it unfold, considering Ryou’s work for some seconds before pulling it on. 

“You did this?” Ryou nodded. “Thanks.” 

More silence. Ryou gnawed at his bottom lip, staring and then looking away in successive motions. Bakura just watched him from the couch. He couldn’t hold it any longer. He stood. 

“You-” his voice was tight. Bakura just blinked slowly, tilting his head as if to encourage him, the edges of his lips twitching. Ryou was seething. “You - you’re a vampire, aren’t you? You  _ bit  _ me. You could’ve given me some warning! And what about that thing outside? I thought I was going crazy with the headaches and the - the  _ weirdness.  _ I thought you were kidnapping those students! I -” He paused, staring at him - “ _ Are  _ you kidnapping them?”

Bakura’s mouth cracked open, and he began to laugh. It was like the cry of a hyena, throaty and manic, his mouth open wide and head back. It would have been worrisome if not for how desperate it sounded, not humorous but resigned, a dry edge to each breath. Ryou frowned. 

“Answer me, or I’ll revoke my invitation. I can do that, can’t I?” 

The laughter stopped, his bluff working, and Bakura was panting as he looked back at him, his gaze lacking any joy. “I’m not kidnapping them, idiot. I’m looking for them.” 

“Looking?” 

“Looking. Searching. Investigating. What the fuck do you think I mean? I’m not the bad guy here.” 

“Then - then.” Ryou’s words stuck on his tongue. “Then what are you doing in my anthropology course?” 

“Everyone needs a cover. Like I said, a friend recommended me.” His smirk was feral and lopsided, favouring his unscarred cheek. Ryou stared. 

“Then that thing outside - did it-” 

“Damn, we’ve got our own fucking sherlock holmes here. Is this why you went looking for me? Because you thought I was kidnapping kids? Because I gave you  _ headaches?”  _

Ryou winced at the grating annoyance in Bakura’s voice, going quiet, his bottom lip trembling. He’d been wrong. 

_ Just as foolish as your father says. _

“Hey! Fuck, don’t  _ cry.  _ Shit - that isn’t -” Bakura groaned, and he stood, motioning to the couch. “Sit down, idiot, come on. There. Gods.” 

Now he really felt foolish, sniffing as he took his place on the couch. Bakura crossed his arms, pacing about the room like a caged lion. “I probably would’ve been torn apart if that thing had found me before you did. And - look, it’s not your fault. So stop fuckin’ crying, ok?” 

Ryou nodded, sniffing more and wiping his eyes. To fall apart in front of Bakura was the last thing he’d wanted, but his reaction was promising. He watched him as he paced and was struck again by how different he looked - how young. Twenty something at most. With the vocabulary of a hardened old man. 

“Gods, what a fucking mess. Idiot.” he was talking to himself. 

“Bakura.” The vampire looked up, still frowning. Ryou swallowed phlegm, sniffing nervously. “Why were you surprised last night when I didn’t know - know about you?”  _ It didn’t make sense  _ \- “You seemed surprised.” 

Bakura’s lips twisted, like he was trying to force himself not to speak, but soon gave up, looking away from him with a pout. “Lure won’t work.” 

“Lure?” 

“Magic that some of us can use. Usually, it lets us wipe memories. You know. Real handy for when you say something idiotic, like calling someone’s ancient egyptian essay _bullshit. _Or when you bite them._” _Ryou could feel his cheeks turning red. “But it won’t work on you, obviously.” 

“Wh-what?” 

“It doesn’t work. Trust me. I’ve tried. In the library - in the alley. Fuck, I even went to class to try! I thought it was because I hadn’t fed, but…” He paused, giving Ryou a long look. “Well, there’s just something about you. You even sensed that stri. I thought maybe you were one of those european types, a fae or, I dunno, something. But you look human. You taste human.” Ryou stared. “Fuck, I’m just digging this hole deeper.” 

The headaches. The flash of his eyes. It made sense now, at least if what Bakura said was the truth, and if it was, then everything Ryou thought he knew about the world was wrong. Fae and vampires, stri. Whatever else was out there. He went quiet, thoughts reeling. 

There was a knock on the door. 

Ryou jumped, body twitching with surprise. The knock came again, light and unhurried. He watched as Bakura edged over to the window. He stopped before it, and Ryou could have sworn he flickered like a candle. The blinds shifted as if they’d been moved. 

“There’s someone outside, he looks like a student. Blondie.” 

Blonde. He had a bleach blonde neighbour, he knew. They’d never spoken, but he seemed like the athletic type. Sometimes Ryou heard him yelling about sports on Friday nights, as if screaming at his television would make his team play better. He told Bakura as much.

The vampire frowned, his eyes grew darker. He stepped away from the window. “I hope you don’t care for him, then.” 

Ryou’s stomach turned. “What do you mean?” 

“Stri are shapeshifters - but they need the blood of the form to do it.” 

Another knock. 

Ryou felt nauseous, and Bakura looked at him with what he thought might be sympathy. He thought of his neighbour. He didn’t even know his name, but he had smiled at him once, and he had smiled back. They had passed each other on the stairs, had shopped at the same Family Mart. And now the thing outside was wearing his face like a costume. 

“What do we do?” He sounded as hopeless as he felt. 

Bakura swore under his breath, and Ryou could see he was thinking. His grey eyes shifted from the ceiling to the floor, searching for a solution. He began to pace again, favouring his uninjured leg. “It can’t move in the daylight.” He said, meeting Ryou’s gaze. “Tomorrow. We’ll leave.” 


	3. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my good friend Pal!! Happy birthday owo!

Something had changed. 

Ryou pulled his head up from the couch, wincing as a random flash of pain broke out across his temples. It was morning. Light was pressing against his blinds, the dull glow of sunlight washing the room with a sepia brush. Everything looked hazy, and he stared blankly into the space between himself and the door until his brain finally woke with the rest of him. 

_ It’s gone. _

He didn’t need to check to know, the hairs on the back of his neck were settled, the anxiety in his chest a dull ache rather than a painful jab of urgency. 

He yawned widely, eyes itchy with fatigue. Even with Bakura on guard, he hadn’t drifted to sleep until late. 

All he’d been able to think about was that thing outside, waiting. 

“Oi.” A voice sounded from the kitchen. He looked up. Bakura was leaning against the counter, his hood hanging over his head and hiding half his face, dark sunglasses perched on his nose. “We’re leaving as soon as we can.” 

Ryou nodded wordlessly and stood up in a slow movement, ambling to his bedroom and changing into travelling clothes. Shirt. Sweater vest. Jeans. Jacket. He stared at himself in the mirror, studying his reflection. With rings around his eyes and lips downturned. Briefly, he thought of his father and the last time he’d seen him.

_ “You’ll be staying here in Japan for study. I’m sure we can both agree it’s for the best.” His gaze had been distant, and his embrace light and hurried, as if just touching him was a chore. “At the very least school will leave you with little time for recklessness.”  _

Tearing his gaze away from the mirror, he returned to the kitchen.

Bakura was waiting impatiently by the door, and eyed the saddle bag he’d thrown over his shoulder with a weary gaze. “Is that necessary?” 

Ryou stared at him, and then back down to the bag. “Well, I still need to do my studies…” Truthfully, he didn’t even know where they were going, only that it was away from the thing wearing his neighbour’s face, and that was all he cared about. 

Bakura snorted as he turned to the door. “Good luck with that.” 

It was a cold morning in Domino City. It had snowed that night, the ground wet with what remained. Ryou forced himself to ignore the twisted metal of the balcony railing and followed Bakura down the stairs, watching the way he turned his face from the light of the rising sun. 

“Is it really ok for you to be out like this?” He wondered, tugging the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands. 

“It’s overcast. I’ll be fine.” 

“But if you’re out, can’t that thing also-” 

“That thing is not the same as me.” Bakura said sharply, something like offense flavouring his words. Ryou couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“But isn’t it a vampire? Aren’t you?”

“Are you blind? Do I look like a hulking monster to you? That thing is as close to a demon as you’re gonna get.” 

“Oh.” Ryou swallowed, falling silent as they trudged out into the side street, the world around them quiet and void of pedestrians so early in the morning. “So demons are real too, then?” 

Bakura sneered, glancing at him side on. “Believe what you want.” 

“But- if they’re real, does that mean angels exist too? Does it mean that god-"

Bakura swore. “What you’re asking me is like - like if an alien dropped down in front of you and asked you to explain every facet of the human world. Every culture, their history. Where would you even start? Are you even fucking qualified for that? Don’t answer.” He shot him a sharp look as Ryou opened his mouth to speak. “The truth is you couldn’t. So don’t ask me to.”

“But.” Ryou started, his words punctuated by a huff as Bakura increased his pace, limp exasperated by his speed. “I would at least explain what I  _ do _ know, so that perhaps they would be less confused!” 

“Sometimes confusion is better than knowing.” Bakura snapped in return, digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

"You really want to keep me ignorant, don't you?" 

“The less you know the better. It’s for your own good. If I can get you to someone that can take you -” 

_ It’s for your own good _

“Wait.  _ Wait.  _ You’re not staying with me?” Ryou’s voice rose by several pitches. 

Bakura didn’t reply - he had sped up, walking - limping - quickly down the road and away from him. Ryou jogged to keep up.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“I need to check the area where I was attacked.” He scowled, grinding out each word with frustration. “Fucking - where the hell was that bar?” He had stopped at the end of Ryou’s street, looking up and down the intersecting road with a frown. 

“Oh - oh we have to take the side street-”    
  
“Side street?” Bakura looked back at him, a small pout forming on his lips. “Show me.” He muttered, and began to follow Ryou as they retreaded their steps. The alleyway was less intimidating in the daylight, the piles of rubbish and overflowing dumpster looking less like dark, looming shapes and more apart of everyday life. 

Bakura walked over to where he had fallen, hands on his hips and eyes on the wall. Ryou followed his gaze, drawing upwards to the dark brick. 

There, dug into the mortar of the building, was a crater of impact surrounded by five deep, gouged out holes. Heart racing, he swallowed thickly, mind recreating the scene for him. The monster lunging for an attack, its swipe missing and hitting the wall with enough force to send a shudder through the building. 

“How did nobody  _ hear  _ it?” He muttered, eyes trailing down to where the line of students had been.

“A barrier,” Bakura replied, following Ryou’s gaze down the alleyway. “An illusionary barrier is simple magic - and it didn’t want to be interrupted.” 

“But I-” 

“Yes.” Bakura turned back to him, pale eyes considering him with a queried gaze. “You got through.” He didn’t say anymore, looking back to the wall. “It must’ve left me here...” 

“What did it want?” Ryou wondered, staring at the pile of rubbish he’d found him in, torn top, delirious. He had called a name - “Does it have something to do with ‘ _ Malik _ ’?” 

In a second he went from standing to pushed against the wall, held by the collar, Bakura’s eyes sharp like knives, “How do you know that name?” 

Ryou’s breath had left him when he was moved - too fast - and he gasped as he tried to speak, hands coming up to clutch at Bakura’s arm. “You said it - you said it last night!” He coughed, squeezing his eyes shut. His ears were ringing. 

“He has nothing to do with this!” Bakura hissed, still pinning Ryou to the wall. “Who the fuck are you? Is it Isis? Did she think she could trick me with some apprentice-” 

“No!” Ryou gasped. “I’m telling the truth. You - you can ask me.” He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he found Bakura’s gaze. He could feel the grip on his collar tighten. 

“Lure doesn’t work.” 

“But it does - it did last night, at the door, you asked me to invite you in.” Bakura growled lowly. “Listen to me! If I try and resist it, i’m going to be puking my guts up pretty soon. It gives me a migraine.” 

Bakura stared, breath laboured as he considered him. Ryou could hear his heart beating in his ears. He tried to stay calm, to be  _ willing.  _ Bakura sucked in a breath. 

“Why did you follow me last night?” 

His eyes shone like the moon, his pupils constricted to slits. Ryou could feel himself falling, falling like through water - He was in the library again, running up the stairs, scaring the guard - 

“ _ We were meant to be writing our report, but I fell asleep in the library. When you never showed, I asked the security guard if he’d seen you _ ,” Ryou gasped, the old man shaking his head at him as he approached the entrance. “ _ He said you were with someone. A-and I was suspicious of you. I thought you had something to do with the missing students. _ ” 

“Wait,  _ wait,  _ who did he say I was with?” 

Ryou’s head was starting to ache. “ _ Biker jacket,”  _ he repeated the old man's words, mouth feeling full. “ _ Probably… in a gang -”  _ he sucked in a breath, hands pushing back against Bakura’s chest. 

“Shit-” 

He vomited, surprised when he didn’t hit the ground, Bakura gone from in front of him. He lamented again his choice of meals, ramen mixing with bile and the puddles of dirty water on the concrete. Someone was holding back his hair.

“I didn’t meet anyone last night.” Bakura muttered. He was beside him, one hand holding his hair, the other supporting his waist. “I don’t  _ remember,”  _ he groaned, and Ryou spat out the last of the sick.

“What do you mean?” 

“Shit,” he swore again, and Ryou forced his aching head up to look at him. “This is all wrong.” Bakura continued, shaking his head. “And  _ you.”  _ He thought he might grab him again, but instead he met his eye with a long gaze, considering him for a moment. “Lure doesn’t work. You broke through.” 

“That’s what you tell me,” Ryou mumbled. 

“And you got through the barrier.” 

“I- I don’t know, there wasn’t anything here. I didn’t see anything.”    
  
_ But he had felt it, the call, the prickle of his neck,  _

“But you felt it,” Bakura echoed his thoughts, still staring. His eyes didn’t flash, so Ryou held his gaze, unable to refute him. Bakura shook his head again, and then stood, lifting Ryou to his feet as he did. “Come on.”

Ryou followed, keeping his mouth shut in favour of drinking from his water bottle. Something had changed in the other’s stride, it had become purposeful. He lead them across the campus, sticking to the shade of the trees and buildings. Ryou played nervously with the strap of his bag. 

They soon arrived at a pay per day carpark, walled by a simple wire fence. It was full so early in the morning and Ryou wondered which they would take - the van, the hatchback? Tinted windows had to be a must for a vampire - even one that could walk in the day. 

Bakura weaved between the cars and to the very back of the lot. 

There, between two scooters, was a motorbike. It shone black in the cold winter light, retro in design, it’s front wheel struck out in front of the body like a stretching cat. 

“I’ve never been on a bike before.” Ryou said, voice somewhat strained as Bakura handed him a helmet. 

“Well, it’s your lucky day.” The vampire replied, a grin revealing his fangs as he swung his leg over the body, gripping the handles. “Get on.” 

* * *

The tiles of the bathroom were stained with age, mold spreading between the grout sealed cracks and to the ceiling, leaving dark blotches on the white plaster. 

The bathtub was in a similar condition, its faucet dripping slowly, a clothesline of washed t shirts and jeans hanging above. Below, with long limbs pushed into the deep but narrow space, was a man. His upper body was bound with rope, mouth covered with duct tape, stray locks of blond hair taped down against pale skin. 

Crouched beside him was a twin, arms resting against the rim of the bath as it sorted through a mess of cards and photos, a wallet lying discarded on the floor. It’s movements were stiff, fingers tapping roughly at the driver's license atop the pile, rubbing the plastic with fervour. The name below was printed in Kanji. _Jonouchi Katsuya_ _ . _

A grin broke out across the twin’s lips, stretching longer than was natural, it’s disguise rippling with instability. It lasted only a moment, head jerking the smile away, and it stood, pocketing the ID and credit card as it turned, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door.

Turning, it held a finger to the chipping paint, the doorframe rippling like water, a dark glow flashing across the surface as the twin whispered in an inhuman tongue. 

The glow dissipated, and the dark of the room encased it. 

It waited for dusk. 


End file.
